Throwing away the stump of a cigar, the planter rose, saying: "I forgot to tell Andrew about those horses." Andrew was the overseer.
Williamson strolled leisurely down the gravel walk, plucking a flower as he went, passed across the road and into the pasture, pausing a moment as he closed the gate leading into it, to greet a passing neighbor, Armour Wren, who lived on an adjoining plantation. Mr. Wren was in an open carriage with his son James, a lad of thirteen. When he had driven some two hundred yards from the point of meeting, Mr. Wren said to his son: "I forgot to tell Mr. Williamson about those horses."
Mr. Wren had sold to Mr. Williamson some horses, which were to have been sent for that day, but for some reason not now remembered it would be inconvenient to deliver them until the morrow. The coachman was directed to drive back, and as the vehicle turned Williamson was seen by all three, walking leisurely across the pasture. At that moment one of the coach horses stumbled and came near falling. It had no more than fairly recovered itself when James Wren cried: "Why, father, what has become of Mr. Williamson?"
It is not the purpose of this narrative to answer that question.
Mr. Wren's strange account of the matter, given under oath in the course of legal proceedings relating to the Williamson estate, here follows:
"My son's exclamation caused me to look toward the spot where I had seen the deceased [sic] an instant before, but he was not there, nor was he anywhere visible. I cannot say that at the moment I was greatly startled, or realized the gravity of the occurrence, though I thought it singular. My son, however, was greatly astonished and kept repeating his question in different forms until we arrived at the gate. My black boy Sam was similarly affected, even in a greater degree, but I reckon more by my son's manner than by anything he had himself observed. [This sentence in the testimony was stricken out.] As we got out of the carriage at the gate of the field, and while Sam was hanging [sic] the team to the fence, Mrs. Williamson, with her child in her arms and followed by several servants, came running down the walk in great excitement, crying: 'He is gone, he is gone! O God! what an awful thing!' and many other such exclamations, which I do not distinctly recollect. I got from them the impression that they related to something more--than the mere disappearance of her husband, even if that had occurred before her eyes. Her manner was wild, but not more so, I think, than was natural under the circumstances. I have no reason to think she had at that time lost her mind. I have never since seen nor heard of Mr. Williamson."
This testimony, as might have been expected, was corroborated in almost every particular by the only other eye-witness (if that is a proper term)--the lad James. Mrs. Williamson had lost her reason and the servants were, of course, not competent to testify. The boy James Wren had declared at first that he SAW the disappearance, but there is nothing of this in his testimony given in court. None of the field hands working in the field to which Williamson was going had seen him at all, and the most rigorous search of the entire plantation and adjoining country failed to supply a clew. The most monstrous and grotesque fictions, originating with the blacks, were current in that part of the State for many years, and probably are to this day; but what has been here related is all that is certainly known of the matter. The courts decided that Williamson was dead, and his estate was distributed according to law.”
Luke smiled and nodded. “Okay. It’s a pretty weird story. Who wrote it?” He handed it back to her.
“A writer named Ambrose Bierce.”
Luke stood and dusted his pants. “Are you kidding me? I ain’t no country bumpkin. I know Bierce was a famous writer in the 1800s. One of his short stories is my favorite, An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.”
She stood too. “Yeah, but he wrote this as a newspaper article. He went there and interviewed people and everything.”
Luke looked down at her. She was excited with the story. If she were not so damned cute, he would have run her off for screwing up his meditation. But she was cute. She did seem to be in earnest. He smiled. “You hungry?”
She looked toward the house, then back toward him. “Sure. I guess.” She stuffed the papers back into her purse.
“You like deer meat.”
“Never had it.”
Luke had not made a fire in the fireplace in a long time—the wood stove was much more efficient. Yet, here he was now sipping wine in front of it with a pretty, but strange girl he had just met. Homemade wine was no champagne, but he didn’t know if this was going to be a romantic evening or not. The whole situation was odd.
Moon crossed her legs as she sat in the homemade oak chair, sipping the wine from a peanut butter jar. “What sort of grapes are these?”
Luke sat in a mating chair beside her. “Muscadine. They grow wild around here.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t know what to say. He felt as if he were on his first date all over again. He watched her from the corners of his eyes as she looked around the room.
“This is a very cozy place you have here, but don’t you miss modern things? You have no television, no Internet, no running water.”
He looked around the room, too, as if he had just noticed. “Well, I do have electricity and I have a cell phone.”
She turned toward him. She was a little too close. “What are you doing out here all alone. You’re way too cute for that.”
He felt his face immediately flush red again. He went to the fireplace and placed a couple of sticks of wood on the fire. He wished and prayed to God that he would not blush so easily; but he always had and he reckoned he always would.
Moon giggled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in your own house.”
He took a deep breath and went back to the chair. He forced himself to look at her. He knew his face was still glowing. “I like being out here alone and depending only on myself and what I can make myself.”
“Well, it’s a waste.”
It was impossible for him to turn redder. He looked into the fire, not knowing what to say or do. The crackling fire was the only sound for a while.
She broke the silence. “Luke, again, that venison was delicious. I loved the biscuits and gravy too.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He found himself smiling. “One reason I have electricity is for the freezer for all my game.”
They sat there for a very long time not saying anything. Finally, Luke said, “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t as nice to you as I should have been. This whole thing has been strange and taxing to me. I mean, my cousin’s in jail, and a friend has disappeared. You know?”
She nodded and smiled. “Luke, you don’t look like the lawman type. What made you want to be a constable?”
Luke poured more wine into their glasses from a big mason jar. “I got laid off from the shoe factory and had time on my hands, going through a divorce. Some buddies kinda talked me into running for office. It was like a joke. Around here constables really don’t do much, don’t get paid.” He looked at her. “I’ve held the office for over a year, and I haven’t really done a thing. I guess this is the first time I took the position seriously. To tell you the truth, I just stay here in the woods.”
“I noticed the sheriff doesn’t think much of you.”
“Naw. I’ve known the sheriff all my life. It’s not me; it’s the position of constable. He let me know that right off.”
She turned in the chair. “Why did you take off the badge in front of the sheriff?”
“I wanted to see Tyler.”
She kept looking at Luke, but said nothing, wanting more.
Luke set his glass on a small table beside him. “Moon, me and my older brother fought all the time. We were known to get into trouble for it. That’s why I know the sheriff so well. My brother joined the service—Special Forces. He later taught me better—never fight a fight that doesn’t have to be fought.” Luke thought of his brother—missed him so much. “I admired him for joining the Seals. I should have joined the service.”
“Why didn’t yo
u?”
“James—my brother—said both of us shouldn’t be in at the same time, said we shouldn’t do that to Mom.”
“He still in?”
Luke looked at the floor. “He was killed in Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry, Luke.”
Luke poured more wine. “He did his duty. Tomorrow I will do mine. I’m only a constable; but I still have a duty and it holds as much weight as the High Sheriff. I’ve got to find out what happened to Grace.”
“Luke, let me float with you. I won’t be in the way. I mean go with you.”
He cut his eyes toward her. The homemade wine was a little much for her. That’s the thing about homemade wine—it sneaks up on you.
But he thought about her request. What would it hurt? He was liking the way he felt around her anyway. The BB on her nose was looking more attractive all the time.
She stood, albeit a little wobbly. “I have to pee.” She started toward the door. Luke noticed she was a little rubber-legged.
“Need help?”
“No. I’m good.”
He handed her a flashlight. “The toilet is just behind the house.”
She went out the door like her feet were tender. Yeah, muscadine wine was no grape soda.
Luke watched her go out the door. She had a fine body, and she turned out to have a nice personality—a great combination. He grinned and shook his head. You never know what turn of events will happen. Where had this strange girl come from?
Then he thought of Grace. He had run it through his mind a thousand times. People just do not disappear. There was no way Tyler harmed her, and Tyler was no liar. He had said she vanished. And what about the bear tracks? There was no wind that could do that. They came to a sudden stop, just as if the bear had vanished.
He put the dishes in the sink and poured in hot water from a pot off the wood stove. As he washed, he figured on what he would do tomorrow. He would start from where the bear tracks disappeared and work a circle from there. He would make the circle bigger as he looked. There must be a cave or something the other searchers had missed. That made the most sense. He had to find out something. He had to get Tyler out of that jail. When he finished the last dish, he grew concerned for Moon. She had been gone for a long time.
He found her halfway between the toilet and the house. She lay on the ground passed out. He forced himself not to gawk at her nakedness. Her pants and panties were left just in front of the toilet. He picked her up and took her to his bed. He took off her shirt and pulled the covers over her. He wanted to kiss her, but that was wrong, too. Her red hair fanned out on the pillow, and he felt an old familiar warmth in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He also felt guilty for giving her such strong spirits.
He grabbed a pillow and heavy quilt and went outside to the fire. As he went out the door, he was greeted by coyotes singing. He admired them—the smartest wild animals in the woods. He soon had the fire blazing, and he positioned the quilt next to the fire as he had done many nights before. Soon he was on his back looking at the stars. Orion was his favorite constellation. Luke had always thought it looked more like a kite, than a hunter. Many of the ancient civilizations believed their origins were from there. As he admired it, he thought of Moon’s story of the disappearing farmer, Orion Williamson. People don’t really disappear—or do they? It was the last thing running through his mind as the howling coyotes sang him to sleep.
When he pulled up at the trailhead, that strange feeling came over him again. He wanted to think it was not fear, but it was, sure it was. He didn’t bring his pistol, didn’t need it for what he was afraid of. He looked out the windshield and up toward the mountain. What was going on up there?
“We going to get out?” Moon said. She was not trying to be cute. He knew she could clearly see the apprehension all over him.
He pushed the door open and slid out of the truck. It was like jumping into cold water, may as well hit it and get it over with. Moon did the same.
They were early and the sun was just beginning to appear over the eastern mountains.
He looked at Moon as she came around the front of the truck. She had her hair in a short ponytail. She wore a leather jacket, cargo pants, and hiking boots. She appeared different from yesterday. The BB was even missing from her nose. The little purse had been traded for a small backpack. He was glad he decided to let her go. He was glad to see she could also be embarrassed as she had been when she awoke without any clothes.
“You got your camera in the backpack?” Luke said.
“Yeah. I’ve got everything I need in there.” She smiled. “Shall we head up?”
Luke grabbed his backpack from the bed of the truck. He kept it packed with wilderness stuff. Yet, the only thing in it that would be of any use today was the water bottle. He slung the pack over his shoulder and started up the trail.
As they arrived at the scene, Moon said, “All of this yellow tape is ridiculous.” She snooped around like a beagle trying to catch a scent. “Did Tyler say anything about feeling a charge in the air, or anything like that?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Now tell me again what Tyler told you.” Luke told her again.
“Moon, don’t you think you should take pictures for your story?”
“Yeah. I guess I’m so excited I forgot.” She pulled the pack from her back and dug out the camera. She began snapping shots, but Luke saw she was not good at it. She was no photographer. She appeared not to be interested in pictures in the least.
After a while Luke sat on the big rock he had sat on the day before. The eagle was back. Its shadow fell over him again as it had yesterday. He looked up at it as he thought how he had climbed over and looked under every rock and stump in the area. He didn’t know what else to do.
Moon sat beside him. “You said Tyler had heard drums?”
“Yeah. That’s what he said. He said it was just a bum-bum, bum-bum sound. He said he heard trumpets too”
Moon scratched her head. “What time of day did this happen?”
“Morning. I don’t know what time.” Luke noted she asked questions like a reporter, but she took no notes. She didn’t have a recorder either.
Luke felt his skin begin to tingle, heard crackling noises. He looked at Moon; he could tell she had heard it too. “What is it?” Luke said.
Moon said nothing as she scanned in every direction. Slowly her hair rose as if it were charged with electricity.
Luke felt his own hair do the same. The crackling grew louder.
“Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum...” The sound was faint and far away at first, but then it grew louder.
“The drums!” Moon said. “Where’s it coming from?”
Luke shot to his feet. He closed his eyes and listened as he always did while hunting, to focus all his senses to his ears. “Coming from the direction of the police tape.”
“Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum...” The sound grew louder. Luke thought it sounded like a Tarzan movie. Now he also heard the horns.
Luke was as afraid as he had ever been, but something compelled him to walk toward the sound. He was there to investigate, after all. He walked past Moon, her eyes glued on the direction of the sound. Luke fought his fear. He had to find Grace. The air developed ripples. Luke could see them as plain as if they were in water. The air appeared refracted. He saw the beginnings of a faint vortex.
Luke felt a sharp pain in the back of the head, and he sank to his knees. His world spun. He grabbed the back of his head and looked up to see Moon running toward the sound with a pistol in her hands. She held it commando style, in front and ready. He realized she had hit him with it. In an instant, she was gone. He shook his head and looked again. She was not there. She had disappeared. Luke struggled to his feet and staggered toward the place he had last seen her, toward the ripples. The drums grew louder. Some kind of force was pulling him. He fought it. It was not like a vacuum—more like an electrical field, a magnet.
There were gunshots. Fear
corkscrewed through his body as he clawed air to stop, but he could not. He tried to turn as leaves and sticks flew by him. He tried to stop, but...
Chapter 4
In an instant, he found himself in some kind of village. It could have been in Africa or South America or something on National Geographic. It was all strange. Where did it all come from? There were giant orange-feathered—
Something slammed Luke to the ground and pinned him to the dirt. He fought to free himself, but soon realized he was trapped by a tangle of vines or ropes. No—it was a big net. He struggled and fought against it, but it was no use. He was caught like an animal. He screamed out in fear and rage. Someone jumped on him and pounded him. He tried to swing. He tried to fight, but it was useless. Then another piled on, then more, seeming to come from everywhere. They had big sticks and they beat him. It was a whirl of confusion. They kicked him. He tried to swing again, but the best he could manage to do was squirm.
“Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum...” The drums beat and the horns continued.
He struggled, but the net tightened. He saw green faces, orange faces, white hair. It was the nightmare of all nightmares, but it was no dream; it was real. As he struggled and fought, he saw one with a green face beside him dead with blood draining from his head—bullet hole Luke instantly figured. The drums echoed in his brain. He tried to tuck his head under his arms, but it did no good. The beating continued. He screamed out, but the pain screamed back. He saw blue lights in his head, then nothing.
Luke blinked his eyes. He drew in several stuttered breaths and tried to clear his head—it hurt. He sat up and tried to collect himself and figure out where he was. He was now alone. He was bruised and scratched all over his body as if he had been dragged through rocks and brambles behind a mule team. He inspected his limbs; nothing seemed to be broken, but he was as naked as day one. Everything was crazy. He staggered to his feet. Pain immediately rushed to his head, found a goose egg on the back of it. “Thanks, Moon,” he groaned. He remembered her hitting him with the pistol—or he thought she had. He discovered that he was in some kind of cage like a gorilla at the zoo. It was solid too. Posts were driven deeply, and he was not going to budge them. It had a door, but it was tied shut with a big rope. The ends of the rope were tied to more posts away from the cage, which Luke could not reach. There was nothing but a jungle outside of the cage. He found a fur rug on the cage floor. Closer inspection found it to be some kind of robe. He put it on and tied it with a cord that was hanging from the cage. He didn’t recognize the animal that had been sacrificed to make it—not anything from Arkansas anyway.
Portal to the Forgotten Page 3
